Earl Grey and cheese scones

This morning I am mostly enjoying Earl Grey. His ghost lives in our house and he's terribly tactile. Um, no, I meant the tea really. I don't very often fancy a cup of Earl Grey, but when I do. Mmm, just the ticket. Unless there have been seizmic changes in Wylam, I can tell you that Chris Jacobson's mum only ever has Earl Grey. This leads me to believe that she must feel a little bit like a Victorian lady every morning.

I briefly wondered if the aforementioned lady might come across my comments on her tea preferences via the magic of Google. Then I remembered that she probably likes to think of her role as Chris' mum as somewhat secondary to her role as herself. My excessive self-googling has not extended to me checking for references to 'Brenda's daughter' yet (though, obviously, I will have to do so now).

I am also enjoying a cheese scone. That's because I'm Brenda's daughter. While Jonathan Opposite-desk-to-me's mum used to make extraordinarily popular caramel slices for school party occasions, Brenda Parker was devoted to the art of the cheese scone. I used to be slightly embarrassed by this. Basically because cheese scones are savoury and therefore not quite as good as things that are sweet. Sorry mum, you make great cheese scones. Much better than these Morrissons ones. Although yours are rarely on two-for-one. At least I wasn't the girl who brought in pease pudding sandwiches. I remember being utterly confused by that. 'But pease pudding isn't a thing - it's a thing that goes with a thing... isn't it?' Luckily Brenda was there to hush me and tell me that sometimes people are too poor to afford the thing, so they just have to have the thing that goes with the thing. And the teacher was there to say 'mmm, these pease pudding sandwiches are delicious!' 'Liar!' I thought at the time, though now I wouldn't mind one since pease pudding is obviously a nicer version of hummous.